


Dodo

by WeirdHybrid



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdHybrid/pseuds/WeirdHybrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’re so dodo, making it hard for me... but why do I like it?"</p><p>In which Kim Jongin is charmed by a distinct, unreadable classmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dodo

**Author's Note:**

> Took a break from my chaptered fic (Love Me Right) to write this little throwaway drabble. I've been listening to Zion.T exclusively lately, thus the title.  
> May or may not continue this. There's likely more to write here (there always is with Kaisoo, right?) but we'll see.
> 
> \--- --- ---

    Jongin snuck into the back row of the lecture hall and sat down as inconspicuously as he could. As he fumbled through his bag to find a pen, he took a second to thumb at his phone, the current time glowing up at him. He’d made it on time, but not by much.  
  
    His professor, a shorter man with glasses and a soberly patterned tie, walked out from behind his desk and started to address the class, introducing himself and reading from the syllabus. Jongin settled into his seat, taking note of an important date or detail when necessary, falling into the first-day-of-class routine. About ten minutes in, the industrial air conditioning started rattling through the vent directly above Jongin’s head, muffling his ears to the professor’s drawl. He leaned forward, listening intently, feeling a cool, dry blast of air down his back. _I’ll have to remember to pick a different seat tomorrow_ , Jongin thought, as he quietly pulled his black hoodie from his bag, doing his best to slip it on without disturbing the other students around him.  
  
    The class went by quickly, and after assigning the week’s readings, the professor waved his hand, dismissing his new students to leave early. Jongin slid his notebook back into his bag, and checked his phone again. His roommate, tall and lanky Sehun, had texted him a shameless picture from his class: a girl who appeared to be sitting in front of Sehun, whose long black hair fell down her back, practically pointing to her unfortunate combination of low-rise jean shorts and a lacy, pink thong. Jongin shook his head at the crass image, feeling sorry for the girl who was either a) completely ignorant as she flashed half her classmates her underwear, or b) thought so little of herself that openly displaying said underwear was her idea of a solid first impression. Jongin favored a little subtlety himself, though he knew this girl was exactly Sehun’s type. Jongin swiped away from the conversation, knowing he’d surely hear about this girl later over dinner, about how Sehun could have gotten so lucky on the first day.  
  
    The rest of the class had started filing out of the room around him, an unyielding herd in the aisle, so Jongin stayed seated waited for them to pass. He chose a playlist from his library and adjusted his royal blue headphones over his ears, blocking out the noise of folded schedules and bag zippers and slow feet and awkward first-day conversations. A familiar beat, smooth and funky, seeped into his ears, his temples, his blood, and he smiled to himself, escaping into his preferred reality.  
  
    Jongin stood and scanned the room as the last few students passed his row, waiting to fall in behind them to leave. His eyes passed over the slackers who brought nothing with them the first day, the overachievers still greeting the professor at the front of the class, a nervous-looking freshman with her pristine, crispy bookbag and new sneakers, and a guy still seated about two-thirds of the way toward the front, his fingers slowly scrolling through his unadorned, expensive phone. The song filling Jongin’s ears kicked into the chorus as the guy stood, unhurried, pulling a black leather messenger bag from the seat next to him over his shoulder. He didn’t look very tall from this distance, but he had impressive posture, elongated and lithe, making the most of his narrow frame. His tailored white collared shirt accentuated his slim body, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thin, capable wrists, the tails tucked into straight-cut black jeans; jeans, Jongin noticed, that hugged the guy’s narrow hips and cut in at the waist, flaunting the small of his back.  
  
    Jongin swallowed and blinked. He dropped his eyes for a second, but with flirty lyrics clouding his judgment, they wandered back up of their own accord, finding his male classmate exiting his row, walking up the aisle to leave the class. This new angle offered a full view of his face, features Jongin had unconsciously guessed at: glossy, stick-straight hair, which looked simultaneously effortless and precise, falling over heavy, straight eyebrows and the most compelling eyes Jongin had ever seen.  
  
    The guy walked up the now empty aisle, pocketing his phone and pulling a pair of simple black sunglasses from his bag. His stride, made more striking by his judiciously cut jeans, was somehow both confident and lax, as if he had somewhere important to be, but he didn’t mind if he was a little late. He walked past Jongin’s row, donning the sunglasses as he went, hiding his eyes behind dark lenses. This somehow woke Jongin, who realized, slightly embarrassed, that he was unapologetically ogling some dude in his history class.  
  
    Gathering his wits, Jongin hoisted his bag a little further onto his shoulder and started toward the door. He took his time, allowing several feet between himself and the guy he’d been staring at, though he couldn’t help taking in more details as he approached. His eyes wandered up and down the back of the young man, noticing a thin neck sloping down to small shoulders, a trim waist under precisely ironed, white fabric, then down, indulgently, to a petit, round butt that Jongin found impossibly cute, particularly as it shifted slightly under black denim, walking away from him. Jongin hurriedly held his phone up in front of himself, a weak attempt to camouflage his stare.  
      
    Too soon, the guy reached the door, but instead of leaving, he paused, stepping just off to the side. Jongin hesitated a beat, watching the guy’s movements. He wasn’t blocking the door; rather he seemed to be waiting for something.  
  
    Jongin didn’t have any reason to stay (though he felt an odd, irrational reluctance to leave), so he braved the few steps separating them and put his hand on the push bar to exit. He ducked his head a little, self-conscious, careful not to look at his classmate; he was sure that his warmed cheeks would somehow betray his interest, something he always made the point to avoid, favoring the role of pursued rather than pursuer in his admittedly few romantic endeavors.  
  
    As Jongin moved through the doorway, he sensed movement behind him. He stepped into the hallway and felt someone follow him out, the proximity much closer than Jongin was expecting. A little flustered, Jongin turned and held the door open wide, the young guy only a few inches away from him, expression unreadable. He passed without looking at Jongin (as far as he could tell, though those damn sunglasses hid his beautiful, wide eyes too much to be sure), and started down the hall without a word. Jongin’s nose filled with a faint but intoxicating scent, sparking images – a sleek leather chair, white marble, a silk tie, and the vulnerable interior planes of thin wrists – behind Jongin’s eyes as he watched the young man go. His walk that had read as simply nonchalant before, captured Jongin’s attention and held it, rapt and malleable. Jongin got the distinct impression that, somehow, he was meant to look, the guy’s sinewy ankles visible as his coolly cuffed jeans hitched with each purposeful step, his hips rotating in a subtle, inviting way. Still holding the door, Jongin’s eyes stayed glued to the guy as he continued sauntering down the hall, a fizzy feeling creeping up in his chest. Just before he turned a corner, without missing a step, the guy tilted his head to the side, offering Jongin a view of his profile.  
  
    Jongin couldn’t be sure, since twenty feet and counting lay between them, but he thought he saw the tiniest smirk play at the corner of the guy’s plush, curved lips. It lasted just a second, and he was gone, disappearing down another hallway.  
  
    The song in Jongin’s ears grooved through its last notes, but it played unheard. The only thing registering in his mind was a single word, a sleek, tempting, dangerous word that was already sinking its teeth into innocent, doomed Jongin.  
  
_Tease._


End file.
